


Brighid

by voleuse



Category: Alias
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-05-12
Updated: 2003-05-12
Packaged: 2017-10-09 05:03:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/83324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/voleuse/pseuds/voleuse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sark does not worship power.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Brighid

**Author's Note:**

> Set before "Second Double."

** _i. Irina_ **

He cannot remember not knowing her. In his shifting and ever-duplicitous life, she is his one constant. She is hearth and home to him, though she would laugh if he told her.

When she disappears, he shrugs and continues the game. When she finds him again, he does whatever she asks of him.

There is no embrace, no warm word, and no sign of devotion. Only a nod, her hand brushing his cheek, and the details of a new operation, regardless of any new alliances he might have formed. Any benefit other organizations might offer pales before her approval and delight.

He considers himself, on occasion, a formidable man, but in no way is he immune to the fire of this woman.

** _ii. Sydney_ **

He thinks, when he watches her, that she could make him better, make him stronger. She could forge him into something else entirely. But though he fears not the hammer, he knows she has no mercy for him. She could purify him, but he might not survive the process.

She would not weep to see him die.

He's never been one for purity, anyway. So little gets accomplished if he cannot dirty his hands. He is, above all, a pragmatist, and while playing "good guys and bad guys" gets her through the night, he is the one that gets things accomplished, in the end.

She could be a valuable asset, but he never deludes himself into wishing for more.

Never in the light of day.

** _iii. Allison_ **

She is a mystery to him, though her history is familiar. It would mirror his, if not for the loving parents that raised her. He wonders what they would think if they saw their beloved Ally put a bullet between an innocent woman's eyes.

He wonders why she cries when she looks in the mirror, and why she laughs when he washes his hands. He wonders why he wants to join her in her short stints in madness.

She is his muse and his inspiration, but he doesn't yet know what she demands. She is not beautiful, not always, but he can't stop watching her. She is unpredictable, and that quicksilver snap is rare to his mind.

He wants to dive, delve into the murky waters of her mind and emerge from the depths with gold in his hands. She is the least dangerous woman in his life, but he would bare his heart to her dancing hands.

He kneels to worship her, and her skin tastes like incense against his careful lips.


End file.
